I don’t swim.
I can swim, I just don’t.
Some people like to tell me that’s bullshit. “How do you know you can swim, if you never go swimming?” “Just because you swam before, doesn’t mean you still can.” These people tend to be the kind that Eleven from Stranger Things would call ‘mouth-breathers.’ I just ignore them.
Anyway, back to my ramblings. Continue reading
“What do you do?”
Now that’s a question I’ve been hearing a lot lately. I’ve recently been using Meetup; a website/app designed for people to create groups in order to meet other people and make friends. So I’ve been attending some ‘meetups’ and meeting people.
Now, I really dislike initiating small talk. I’m okay if somebody asks me the typical boring questions, but I won’t ask them myself. Mainly because I don’t really give a shit. One of the most commonly asked questions is “So, what do you do?” Continue reading
I remember when I first told my closest friends that I had started on a course of antidepressants. A couple of them had some knowledge and understanding of depression told me it’s a long road to recovery. But the less informed among them asked if I’m ‘happy now’ for ‘feeling any better.’ Continue reading
I read, a couple of months ago, the views of a fellow ‘depression sufferer.’ She was going to be giving a talk locally about mental health, so I did a little bit of background reading before deciding on whether I would go along to listen. What I read, despite being supposedly the thoughts of somebody with depression, I found to be offensive and insulting. As well as completely wrong. Continue reading
I was inspired to write this by Ana’s post Mask, in @bitter sweet diary.
We all wear masks: to hide behind; to pretend we are someone else – for comedic, dramatic or other purposes; to live another life. We paint over damaged walls, to mask the cracks. We say words we do not believe, to mask our true thoughts and emotions. Or we wear masks when robbing banks, so as to not be recognised.
“I’m no good at writing.”
“I can’t find the right words.”
“It wouldn’t be as good as yours.”
I keep hearing excuses such as these. People tell me that they’d love to write poetry, but they won’t simply because they feel it wouldn’t be good enough.